Five Things That Never Happened To Shen
by Hymenocallis Caribaea
Summary: They are his heart's deepest desires – dreams that resurface from time to time.


**Five Things That Never Happened To Shen**

**Summary:** _They are his heart's deepest desires – dreams that resurface from time to time.  
><em>**Character(s):** Shen  
><strong>Rated T for mild descriptive violence and death<strong>

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><p><em>i. Of victory and happiness<em>

The echoing screams of his cannons precede the massive conflagration that engulfs the city. The stench of sulfur percolates through the atmosphere, bringing with it the stench of death. Thousands of citizens wail in unison, but they fall silent, one by one, as the smoke thickens and the fires burn relentlessly, spilling its cinnabar light into the night. By morning, there is nothing left of the grand capital of Peking – only smouldering rubble and the charred bodies of its citizens remain, their final scream of terror forever etched onto their faces.

A necessary sacrifice, for it is a fundamental truth of survival that had been pounded into him a long time ago: That which we want, we must take.

Shen craved victory, and victory he did take as his fleet navigates the meandering river, obliterating whatever pitiful resistance there was left. It does not take long before the few surviving feudal states surrender and prostrate themselves before Shen, sealing China's inevitable fate, a nation united by fire and steel.

And so, when all of China is finally his, Shen claims the happiness he had been denied all his life. It is this happiness that he takes from the people he had ruthlessly cut down, the countless families he had torn apart. The happiness that he derives from the suffering of others…

After all, that which we want, we must take – it's as simple as that.

_Is it?_

(It is a hollow happiness, though, a crater that can never be filled. And nothing can ever be _taken_ to fill that crater.)

* * *

><p><em>ii. Peace, fragile peace<em>

The pregnant clouds roil in the tumultuous sky above. Lightning splits the grey with a streak of blue and breaks the silence with a clap of thunder. It begins to rain, and the world comes to life with a deafening thrum: Trees sway under the force of the wind and rivers turn into raging torrents. It continues this way for the next few hours before it diminishes into a feeble drizzle.

Shen's body is a white mark in this almost picturesque painting with all the greenery and the mountains in the backdrop. Standing up, he twirls his right leg in a circular motion and does the same with both his wings. He catches a droplet of rainwater mid-flight – body moving fluidly – and allows it to travel from wing to wing. It is almost like a dance, a perfect harmony between the mind and the energy of the universe. Throughout the entire process, the droplet never breaks.

Shen finally allows the droplet to slide down the length of a grass before it unites with the earth as a whole.

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><p><em>iii. Changing the fate's design<em>

He laughs at the pandas' inability to defend themselves as he sliced effortlessly through the farmers, their hoes collapsing uselessly onto the snow that was now stained a crimson red. The inferno consumes what is left of the village and the villagers' cries along with it, and Shen realises at that instant that this is what he was made for: the thrill of combat; blades severing arteries, spilling lifeblood; the sound of war; the finality of fire.

Even as he wipes out the pandas who were foolish enough to engage him, his wolves are tracking down the remainder of the escapees, securing his victory. He can almost imagine the moment he has been waiting for: the proud smile upon his parents' faces as he tells them of the fate that he has averted.

The panda's size would be her eventual downfall. Blundering clumsily through the forest, she trips over a tree root and lands flat on her face, a certain ball of black and white rolling out of her arms. She lurches forward in a desperate bid to retrieve the baby, but it does not take long for Shen to arrive, his halberd descending upon the struggling figure, silencing her.

He is about to leave when he hears the cries.

Walking a short distance from where the bloodied body lay, Shen finds the panda cub lying supine, covered by a thin layer of snow. He approaches it warily, fearing that it may be a trap. A few seconds pass before the baby acknowledges the peacock's presence, and it ceases its bawling.

Instead, it stares at Shen with a pair of green eyes, innocent and unknowing; Shen reciprocates the gesture, a cruel smile playing on his beak. Such a pity, but it _must_ be done. He fingers the hidden blade as he inches ever closer towards his prey, the shroud of death hanging in the air, raw and tangible…

The baby's cries are lost on the bitter wind travelling south, carrying with it nothing but a tinge of cold indifference.

* * *

><p><em>iv. All I ever wanted to say<em>

Shen does not remember much of the life he spent in his bed confined to the solitude of his room. Shen does not remember how it was like living out the rest of his dreary existence cognisant of the fact that death would befall him at any moment.

(It is silent all the time except for the occasional monotonous pattering of the rain against the wooden windows and the jubilant cries of children playing in the courtyard.)

Visits from his family are sparse. There are only twenty-nine so far in the four years he had been bedridden. Besides Soothsayer, no one else seems to care. The royal physician would come in ever so often to prescribe expensive medication imported from all around the globe but nothing can ever make the cough abate in any way, much less the pain of loneliness. His parents are a rare sight; even if they do drop by, they will never stay for more than a few minutes before some imperial officer invariably arrives to take them away, back to a land where _royal duties _come first...

Servants scurry around, tidying the room, changing the bedsheets and constantly replacing the cold compress upon his head. They are obedient and respectful now, but he knows that they would whisper behind his back after they leave, befoul his name with malicious gossips like they always do.

But what can he do, anchored to the bed by his own mortality? He no longer believes in the power he was promised as the prince.

.

_Days morph into months, and months morph into years, but death is a sweet release that fate would not grant him._

_He begs for the merciful Heaven to relieve this suffering. He prays day and night for this agony to end. He screams his throat hoarse, but there is no answer to his prayers. Even when countless sleepless nights are spent crying, there is nothing on this earth that can help him. Not anymore._

.

Eventually, the day does arrive. The goat physician shakes his head, and sends several servants to call for his parents to gather at his bedside. Soothsayer is the first to arrive, her hoof caressing Shen's face, tears staining the brim of her eyes. There is not much to be said; Soothsayer settles with a simple "I love you".

Minutes fleet past, but there is no sign of his parents. The physician tells him to wait. "They're on their way," he affirms Shen for the sixth time. And Shen waits, and waits, and waits. Even on the brink of death, he waits, fighting to stay awake – stay _alive_ – just to see his parents for the last time.

"Soothsayer," the physician says, urgency in his voice. "Stay with Prince Shen. I'll go fetch his parents."

The exhaustion overwhelms him; he fears he may not last for long. So, with the last few breaths of his life, Shen tells the Soothsayer, "Tell my parents…"

"Tell them," he whispers feebly. "That I love them."

It grows silent immediately after. An expression of peace washes over Shen's worn face, and Soothsayer lowers her head in an unspoken prayer. At the same moment, Shen's parents burst through the doors, but alas, it was too late. The caprine physician rushes to Shen and checks for a pulse. When he finds none, he looks up to the distraught parents, his face a mask of terror. The news needn't be articulated; it is understood immediately. Shen's mother collapses in a heap beside the bed, screaming fervent denial; Shen's father can only attempt to soothe his broken wife as she cried – but even he isn't immune to the bitter onslaught of grief, and is powerless to stop the tears from streaming down his beak.

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><p><em>v. Normalcy<em>

There was once a country called China, where its citizens lived happily under the rule of Emperor Shen. The country prospered, for there wasn't an enemy that could not be repelled, no disaster that they could not handle. Peace reigned in this ethereal world, a priceless blessing from the gods.

Every time during the Spring Festival, there would be a spectacular display of fireworks – something meant to bring colour and joy. And there would be much colour and joy as the cannons fire their payload straight into the sky, showering Gongmen City in a cascade of harlequin sparks, driving away the evil spirits.

There would be an assembly of peacocks at the top-floor balcony of the Tower of Sacred Flame, watching the spectacle from afar. Emperor Shen is amongst the crowd, but is indiscernible from the rest; he has the same blue-green plumage, wears the same robes, possesses the same air of royalty…

Shen is whom they would call _normal_.

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><p><strong>AN:** So much for my first fan-fiction.

Inspired by _marlinowl_'s "Five Things That Never Happened".

**Edit (15-02-14):** Rewrote several awkwardly phrased/redundant sentences and fixed a few grammatical errors.

Thank you for reading!


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